


The Blue Hoodie

by millie rock (sylphofspacejam)



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Comedy Will be in Chunks, Depression, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mostly Follows Heart Events but intertwines with Other Heart events and some nonsense in between., Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-10 05:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13495860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylphofspacejam/pseuds/millie%20rock
Summary: The first step to getting help is admitting you need it.





	1. First Encounter.

**Author's Note:**

> (i thought it'd be nice if both shane and the farmer were soft because soft is good... inspired by one of my save files on Stardew!)

Maybe if she looked this way, he could see her better. Though maybe, for her sake, or anyone around him, it was probably best he remained invisible.

Shane had always been fully aware of what his reputation was. And he, without knowing, always preceded it. Every town needed a loser, right? Some kind of low-life with a bottle addiction and a bad attitude to ‘shake up’ the boring sleepiness of the town. If the people didn’t despise nor hold fear of him, they were ashamed of him. He could feel disappointment mix with the dewey humidity in the air every time he walked into the town square, to his prison of a so-called ‘career.’ If restocking shelves in a sad, soulless corporate store was a career, then he was a Romance Novel male model. Shane snorted bitterly to himself, one of the other townsmen coming to mind. No. He certainly was no Elliot--now that guy could most definitely be on a romance novel cover. He probably was. Shane was enough into conspiracy theories, or joking about them to humor the idea. If only for a laugh.

He laboriously held his beer as he stood by the fireplace, his whole body heating up from the continuous pounding of drinks and warm flame just to his left. It would have been a normal night. Completely normal. If she wasn’t there. In fact… who was she? When did she get here? Shane frowned amidst swallowing his drink, just letting the sensation of carbonation linger on his tongue for moments as he brain dwelled on the beginning of the day. This… was the new farmer, wasn’t she? She’d run into him to say hello, he could vaguely remember--what did he say back? Something along the lines of telling her to leave him alone. How stupid was he. Now that he could almost get a good look at her, he could almost swear…

Intoxicated eyes focused on the young woman next to Marnie, visiting and laughing while enjoying a cup of water. Still, Harvey sitting at the bar and annoyingly fidgeting with who knows what was frustrating Shane, as it was smack in the middle of his view. Feeling eyes on him, Harvey turned to Shane with tense shoulders, obviously afraid of whatever confrontation Shane may have for him. Shane only frowned, and as he held the top of his beer to his lips and tilted his head back, graciously flipped a bird to Harvey. It only got a rolling of his eyes, but at least it got the job done, as the doctor felt it was enough for him to leave. Good. Shane could finally feast his drunken eyes on the view he’d been trying to get all night. Guilt of possibly offending the doctor had no chance of bubbling up under the familiar numbness of intoxication. He only felt warm--and stupid. One of which he felt regardless of what he was drinking.

So there she was. Bubbly indeed. His eyes shamelessly wandered down her figure, and a mildly suggestive smile crept on his lips. Soft. Curved. His eyes remained unmoved with a final swig, and he mulled over the girl in question for what seemed like a couple minutes. Stardew Valley had plenty of outdoorsy people that didn’t have an inkling of excess softness on their form--not like he had become familiar with. Bitterness tugged at the bottom of his heart. His form was nowhere near flattering on him--might have been her youth that allowed her to wear it well. Gah--he hated reminders of his age. And appearance. And self. Shane cursed his acute sense of self-awareness, as it had always led him into over-thinking and over-doubting. Nothing new. Just the same nonsense he’d always had.

Still. He made note of the farmer’s appearance in mind. As someone who liked to snack and drink and sleep--he’d always been drawn more to people like him. The kind that made a good pillow. He grinned stupidly. Yeah, a pretty decent-looking pillow. Typically, Shane would have truncated this terrible train of thought already, but he was too gone to care. Too gone to correct his swimming brain that was already trying so hard to stay afloat. Suddenly, he looked at his mug and back up, to see the farmer standing before him--big eyes observing him quietly. Shane immediately frowned. No. He was in no way approachable at any hour nor any how. Especially not with the way his mind was thinking--no. He needed to send her away. Even when totally gone, Shane knew this.

“Whaddaya want?” he demanded of her, holding his mug up interrogatively. Relief struck him just for a moment upon realizing she was inches shorter than him. Geez, finally, someone in town shorter than he was. Some of the other girls were almost at his height--pretty embarrassing by his standards. Least he had a couple inches on her--he could pretend to be intimidating. By the looks of her smile and what seemed to be a complete lack of social judgment towards him, she only offered a full slice of pizza from her plate to him. Shane looked back, dumbly, not sure how to receive it. Why was she so obsessed with giving everybody gifts? Why did he have to be included?

He paused for a second, but… felt himself give in. Pizza was one of his favorite foods, and the fresh kind beat the frozen kind he lived off of by a landslide. He gingerly reached out and set it on the counter next to him in a fashion that was uncharacteristically gentle. His eyes moved from the pizza back to the farmer, who only smiled. Shane blinked. Maybe they were expecting a response…? He couldn’t gather much through his semi-conscious haze, but by their curious eyes, they either wanted to do other things--which by his entire being socially and physically was in no way possible--or was waiting for him to thank them. Shane felt himself give a loose nod.

“‘S’good,” he slurred, “I love a good pizza, y’know? Thanks.”

Shane set down his mug, not quite as gently. He let out a low burp, unintentionally disgusting his quiet company. Again, shame was only a distant feeling now, but frustration with himself was only growing. He peered to her, as she visibly took a step back from him. Dejection suddenly rose up from the pit of his stomach, and his assertive demeanor returned. He held up his arms defensively.

“What else y’want? Y’gonna sing for me too? Do a dance? I scarin’ you? Need to call your mommy or somethin’? Look--’m a busy man--jus’ leave m’ alone, okay?

His questions were unforgiving and held no space in between. The young lady only looked at him, an unwavering look of empathy held in her expression. No bubbly, round face should look so sad. But--it was best she used it on him than anyone else in the town, he figured. He wasn’t a hard man to hate. Once again he held his hands up in a defensive shrug, gesturing again by extending his arms. If she felt pity towards him, it only made this scene worse, no doubt. She needed to leave. She was only wasting her time at this point.

“What!? What else do y’want!?” Shane raised his voice, causing the farmer to take two steps back, then retreat to go talk to someone else. He huffed, his face now completely flushed with drunken heat and frustration. Good. Now they were both done wasting their time. His eyes watched her walk away as he still satisfyingly baked in his episode for a couple seconds, then cursed himself just after. He didn’t have to be so awful towards her--she was just giving a gift. Yet… she needed to know he was a waste of time--there were plenty of other young and pretty people and town to ogle at. Shane bitterly snickered to himself. Unless she was just really into guys that looked like Shrek.

From the corner of the saloon, Shane could sense Marnie’s glare on him. All he could do was glare right back--keeping his eyes on her as he took a final swig of his beer.


	2. Attitude Adjustment.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane is lectured about things he already knows.

Sudden, pop-ish music blared into the pounding brain of Shane’s sleeping form, causing him to flop his arm out the best he could to turn the nuisance off. Augh, what was that noise again? Why was it so loud? His eyes squinted open just barely to get a blurry glimpse of what looked to be… just his radio. A lazy slap on the top of its surface was enough to get it to stop blaring annoying tunes and fall to the floor with a thud. With a long groan mixed with some kind of sigh, he rolled onto his back and held the sides of his head. He remembered having a _shload_ of beer, but yikes--did he have jet fuel too? These headaches just kept getting worse.

Shane sat up with is head still spinning, and much to his misfortune, still feeling the unwelcome buzz from last night. His morning routine had become some form of dealing with hangovers for years now. Drinking water and pounding down saltines until he could walk straight was a typical morning for him, though he hated saltines; they were as bland and as boring as a piece of cardboard, with some salt on top. Yet every morning, there he was, at the kitchen counter, shoving them into his mouth two at a time.

He almost glanced into the bedroom mirror before throwing a dirty tee onto it to prevent seeing his own reflection. Avoidance was ignorance, and ignorance was bliss. Shane already had some awareness as to how bad his personal upkeep had become, and wanted no reminder of the fact. He was more than fine without it. In fact, he’d love to take the extra step of being a jackass and just wear a paper bag, that way, nobody in town would have to deal with the reminder of his, well, self.

With disorientation still keeping his walk at hindered balance, he still managed to make a beeline for the pantry, grab a full box of saltines, and hammer away at eating them. In all honesty, he tried his best to not recall the events of last night, but being left alone with silence and his own chewing, it was hard not to dwell on regrets. Making Harvey go away? Well, no. He didn’t really regret that, so that’s out. It was the situation afterwards that seemed to poke at his fried brain. Being given a gift, and promptly telling the other to fuck off. Yeah, nice one, Shane. In his defense, that farmer girl should know better than to talk to him. Everyone else did, and… if anyone saw her with him, they might think badly of her too.

A frown formed on his face at the thought. Well. Not that he was doing this for her sake. Completely. Because this definitely wasn’t about her. None of it. Well.. maybe a little, if he was being honest with himself. And he usually didn’t like to be, so… Shane decided to disregard that thought for now.

If others were kept away from him, or rather, if he kept himself away, then nobody would have to be disappointed, right? That’s how it worked? If everybody thought that lowly of him, then there would be no expectations for him to not reach, and nobody to let down. The lack of others’ emotional dependency on him allowed him to do and be what he pleases. No responsibility, no pressure. No exhausted relationships to uphold with superficial rituals of hangouts that nobody wants to go to or anything of the like. Shane definitely didn’t want the new girl to think he was worth any time, let alone a friendship. Somebody like him? Hah, right.

There were still very few who he remained with. Marnie, of course, his landlord and aunt. Her outright attempts at trying to get him back on his feet had all but been a part of the past, much to his luck. Not as much guilt seemed to weigh him when he was around her anymore, which made being in the house bearable. Then... The one relationship that always tugged at his heart, that haunted him, that kept him on the floor in the shower for thirty extra minutes… his mind merely grazed the subject of Jas. Shane groaned exasperatedly--though not in light of her, rather, of how little she really knew about him. Or, well, Shane wasn’t particularly sure how intuitive children were. Of course he was a child once, and the disarray that was his crappy household was no secret to him even in early childhood, but that was a can of worms for another day. He was nowhere near drunk let alone drunk enough to want to think of his childhood.

Did Jas know how badly he was doing? Was she even aware of what exactly he’s going through? Or did she just think he’s just… sad?

He hoped desperately it was the latter. She was far, far too little to know anything about existential emptiness and complete lack of fulfilment and all the wonderful fruit those subjects bore. He heard about depression being something that could be medicated once, but if he were to be honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely certain if that’s what it was. Maybe he was the problem and he was just trying to find an excuse. Other people had depression and other stuff, sure, but a slob like him? He resented himself enough to not even give himself that possible grace of a diagnosis. Maybe he was making it all up for someone to feel sorry for him. Maybe nothing he felt was real--if he could remember what feeling anything was like. Shane pinched the bridge of his nose. Ugh, he hated sobering up. It made him think, and he couldn’t be left alone with his thoughts this early in the morning--soon the others in the household would wake up and they’d have to run into him being himself. Which was never a good thing.

If there was anyone he couldn’t be himself around, if only for the best reasons, it was Jas. She’d be awake soon, bringing some much-needed life into the house, and Shane needed to numb the headache as much as possible. The saltines helped a little, hopefully they’d prove to be effective more as his body processed them, but maybe some light soda would do the trick. He swung open the fridge recklessly, causing items inside to fall or fumble around, and perused for any ginger ale. Shane was too distracted to notice gentle steps heading to the ranch counter, picking up some erroneous things around the place to make it spotless. Instead, he stood back up straight with annoyance. No ginger ale, huh. He’d have to buy some next paycheck.

It wasn’t long before he felt a familiar gaze of disappointment on him, and he could only sigh. It’d been a while since the last time Marnie lectured him; in all honesty, Shane hadn’t heard it in so long he was certain she’d given up on it. He faced her, seeing her with her hands on her hips and stern displeasure worn across her face. Ah yes, nothing new. Being as facetious as possible, he chugged the bottle of water available on the counter and avoided greeting her, after making eye contact with her. All he had to do was give it a couple seconds until…

“Shane,” her voice broke the thick silence, bluntly setting the mood. Shane sighed out of his nostrils.

“How may I help you?” his raspy voice answered, pulling another bag of saltines from the box and pounding the next stack down. Marnie took a couple steps closer.

“Shane, look at me.”

“Hmm?” he responded with crackers in his mouth, facing her once again with inappropriate nonchalance. Marnie winced with every chew he made, despite his efforts to chew as quietly as possible with his mouth closed--it was the only sound in the room. She folded her arms.

“You know what this is about.”

“Mmm--enlighten me, maybe?” he responded sarcastically, “What are my charges this time? Do we need a jury to vote on my sentence?”

Marnie rolled her eyes at his feeble attempts to avoid the subject. Shane’s sarcasm was laced with exasperated bitterness, tired of being the subject of lectures and only putting up a weak wall to defend himself. Even if his actions weren’t worth defending.

“Don’t be like that,” Marnie spoke, “You made quite the scene last night.”

“Yeah, did you like the show?”

“Shane!” her voice rose, then she stopped herself, wary of possibly waking up Jas. Shane picked up on the same thing, figured it was in both of their best interest to not be an ass, even if that was his go-to.

“Fine,” Shane accepted. He leaned his back against the counter, setting down the saltines, and mentally prepared himself for a lecture he’d heard several times before. Marnie exhaled.

“You really didn’t have to yell at that girl, Shane,” she finally said, “She really wanted to get to know you. She’s new in town, and--”

“I’m making the town look bad?” he interrupted defensively, “I’m sure she can gather that everyone else is smiles and rainbows. She’s an adult. She can figure out I’m the town asshole if she can add two and two together.”

“You could have given a better impression,” Marnie stressed, gesturing her hands almost as a plea. Shane rolled his eyes.

“And what? Lie to her? She would have figured it out eventually. Not worth faking. Not like everyone else here, at least.”

“Jas likes her, so could you at least be civil? At least not outright yell at her?”

There it was, the Jas Card. He should have seen it coming--it was always the one thing that ended arguments with him pretty quickly. Shane lowered his head with the tinge of guilt pulling on the bottoms of his heartstrings. He stayed quiet.

“Please, Shane. I don’t know why you’re being like this--I’ve seen you be sweet before--and you’re so good to Jas. Just, maybe, when the farmer comes in, or when you’re out and about, try to set a good example? Jas hates to see you so--”

“That’s enough,” he truncated her thought, definitely not wanting to hear more. He already knew this. He needed no reminder of what a bad role model he was in every definition of the word. The mere mention of his capability to be kind only made him feel worse, nauseous even, to add to his hangover. It only emphasized that he made the actual choice to be an asshole, only furthering his correct judgment of himself that he really and truly was a bad person. It was always a pleasure to have one more thing keep him up at night. Marnie sensed hostility in his voice, and stopped talking. Deafening silence filled the house until he gave up, and refilled the bottled water with the faucet.

“Fine. Fine. I’ll be tolerable. But I’m doing it for Jas. Nobody else. Keep that in mind,” he said, pointing at Marnie. Marnie made a curious look, raising a brow.

“I didn’t imply otherwise, Shane… unless, I have reason to think it’s for different reasons…? Hmm?”

Shane frowned, now feeling embarrassed. No. There certainly, definitely, and absolutely was no other reason as to why he’d change his behavior around the new girl. None. Zip. He rolled his eyes and glanced at the clock on the oven, and groaned. It wasn’t even seven yet--no safe way he could escape being in the hot seat. He prayed Jas would come out of her bedroom soon.

“No,” his voice dragged out, obviously annoyed. For once in a very long time, Marnie smiled at him. He posture softened as well as her tone.

“Well, like I said. She and I talked for about a full hour about all sorts of things. Lots of things,” her voice was almost a sing-song tune. Shane would be lying if he said his curiosity wasn’t piqued. Humoring her, only for her sake, not out of selfish nosiness, did he pry.

“Really? Very _inch-resting_.” Shane replied facetiously, acting as if he couldn’t care less.

“Mhmm, She seemed to hang out with me a little longer after I told her you were my nephew.”

“Great, so she’s weird, and is probably a stalker. Can’t wait for the town to find out a serial killer moved in,” he complained, “Or maybe, you’re not giving yourself enough credit. You can be great company, Marnie. When you’re not like. Telling me how to live my life.”

Marnie let out a laugh, waving her hand dismissively.

“Flattering me won’t get you out of trouble, young man.”

“Young? Is that some kind of sick joke?”

Suddenly, another door swung open, and excited pats on the floor made a beeline to the kitchen. Despite his headache, Shane’s face grew into a smile, and he held open his arms for the little monster running through the house. Jas ran right for him with a big grin, and jumped to his morning hug.

“There’s my little lady,” he greeted, then set her down once the sudden weight was too much for his pounding head. Holding one of his temples, he still held a smile for her. She looked up at him with bright, loving eyes--only the way a child ever could. She held up one of her dolls.

“Ms. McKinney opened up a clinic and treated some people today!” she announced, stroking the doll’s hair, “Well, she’s Dr. McKinney now!”

Shane pointed at the doll, feigning childish curiosity.

“Is that the doctor, right there?” he asked in a gentle tone. Jas nodded.

“Yeah! But a family of three fairies came in but couldn’t be treated…” she said remorsefully. Shane showed concern for the family.

“Those little pink fairies that stay in the dollhouse?”

Jas nodded.

“Was it because they were fairies?”

She shook her head, folding her arms.

“No, it’s because they didn’t have insurance, and couldn’t take another loan out of the bank for treatment. They’re already in debt from the credit card company and fell behind on their payments, but Mabel--the mommy fairy--is raising her daughters alone and only works a minimum wage job. So her payments started to fall behind.”

Marnie and Shane immediately shared a look of both amusement and concern. Jas really could be the funniest little thing. Shane tried so hard not to laugh at her bitter realism, even when she was just playing make-believe with her dolls. No way she got that from Vincent or Penny.

“Has Dr. McKinney informed them about applying for federally-provided Healthcare?” Shane pressed, “it’s important for them to know their options are open.”

Jas nodded thoughtfully, not as a response but in realization, then started to run back to her room while holding up her doll. Marnie and Shane shared the same look with each other again, and let out a laugh.

“That wasn’t me,” Shane defended himself, “I haven’t told her ‘bout any of that.”

Marnie gave him a playfully incredulous look and looked at the oven.

“It’s past seven now--you oughta get to work. And remember--please behave? _Please?”_

Shane took the blue cap hanging on the coat hanger on the wall, and exhaled. Yeah, yeah. Thing was, most of the time, Marnie and Jas weren’t around him, so was he going to take the advice to heart? Probably not. At least, definitely not with a good attitude.

He placed it on his head and walked out the front door, immediately focusing on a familiar figure not twenty feet from the door. His eyes widened in initial surprise, then squinted in suspicion. What was that girl doing here so early? What did she want? No. He didn’t want to ask. She was probably checking to see what time Marnie opened up the supply shop inside--after all, she was a farmer. Marnie did have a shop. No way after last night she’d want to see him again.

He walked forward, making and effort to avoid any and all eye contact, before being stopped by a poke on his shoulder the instant he passed her. Shane stopped in his tracks, genuinely annoyed. This had to be good. Two lectures in one day? Must be his lucky day. He should try to do the lottery before the sun went down.

“What,” his voice was hoarse and mean, not making any room for misinterpretation. The farmer held up a tulip, pastel pink in color. It contrasted her dirtied farm clothes and messy hair in its daintiness, almost enough to make him smile. He stayed strong--no smiling. Shane tilted his head back to the house.

“Jas likes flowers,” he said bluntly, about to walk away until a poke on his shoulder interrupted him again. He felt his muscles tense in frustration. Could he not just. Walk to work? Was that too hard for this girl to process?

“What now?”

The flower was still held out to him, the farmer now taking a shy posture, or what could also be seen as an uncomfortable one. He didn’t care how he made her feel at the moment. He just knew he was annoyed out of his mind. His arms were out of his pockets now, holding them up in vague frustration.

“What? You giving that to me? You--” he stopped, realizing he had nearly raised his voice in front of the house. Jas hadn’t left yet--she could probably see the commotion from the window if she was curious. He grabbed the girl by her wrist and pulled her around the corner, past the ranch, and out of any window’s sight. Sure, he’d behave in front of Marnie and Jas, but they weren’t here right now. He then let go after rushed walking and turned back to the girl, who held her wrist in discomfort. His face softened for a moment at the sight of her being in pain. Shane regretfully finished the thought--pain that he caused. He could just never seem to cause enough, could he?

“Look, uh, sorry I was rough with you there. So, what. Is that for me?”

Shane had the decency to tone down the harshness, allowing for the farmer to recompose herself and nod, handing him the tulip with a shy smile. His reaction was no different than last night’s, as he could only hold it in dumbfounded silence. This was, well, nice, he supposed. But their insistence on giving gifts at the crack of dawn just outside his house was… _weird._ It was really weird. Suddenly, something began to make sense.

This had to be a prank. Had to.

“Thanks. It’s nice,” Shane started, then pointed at her, “But leave me alone. I’m not into stupid pranks or anything like that--I don’t know who in town is putting you up to this, I don’t care how much they’re paying you, and since you’re new I’ll take it a little easier on you. But you tell whoever put you to this to cut it out. It’s not funny. I’m onto you, your pranks, and every other damn person in this town. So, in conclusion, get out of my way, don’t interrupt me on my way to work, and cut it out with pretending to wanting to be my friend.”

She looked at him with confusion, though if he could pick it up correctly, he thought he saw real, sincere sadness in her expression. Almost as if she really was trying to be his friend but… no. Shane shook his head. The notion was impossible. This was just an elaborate prank to make it seem like he had an inkling of a chance with a cute girl to get his hopes up and crush them, just like nearly every other aspect of his life had. Real cute prank. No way he was going to give in because sad eyes batted long lashes at him. No--it wasn’t going to work. Satisfied with his speech, he nodded to them and walked the rest of his way to his shitty job, as if the encounter never happened.

But no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, the eating feeling grew in his stomach that it may not have been a prank at all, and she really just wanted to give him stuff. Maybe he was the one crushing _her_ hopes.

_No_ , he thought, _who the hell in their right mind would want anything to do with me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (next chapter the farmer will probably finally have a name and dialogue--ive just been really struggling on picking out a name. i might put a bunch in a randomizer and see what i get,, but thank you for reading!)


	3. Birthday.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane has a slightly less shitty day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a heads up theres some headcanons in this chapter and a semi-canon heart event scene with stuff mixed in--and finally the farmer has a name and dialogue! thank you for your patience. you guys keep me going!

“Happy birthday, Shane!”

A chipper tone pierced his swimming head, cutting all hopes of finishing his much-needed rest, but… it was already morning. Dizzy disorientation plagued him the instant he sat up to lock eye contact with none other than Jas, holding out a piece of decorated construction paper. The colors were bright--almost too bright for his hungover eyes, but was a beautiful sight nonetheless. It was apparent she’d been practicing her coloring for this day, and the payoff was marvelous. Instead of drawing grass, she cut up green pieces of paper and made them look like little blades of grass. On the paper was a drawing of Jas holding Shane’s hand and… Shane held the paper close to his eyes, feeling his heart flip. He was smiling. She still perceived him so innocently, so openly, despite him being far less than deserving. Many other townsfolk were drawn in the picture in the background, though the foreground people were easy to identify. Of course, in Jas’ right, everyone looked to be a vampire, and was drawn with bat wings and sharp teeth. Shane grinned. He loved how _metal_ she was--just like him. And the art was nothing less than awesome: there was Marnie, smiling on the left, and Penny and Vincent by a pine tree, and… Wait.

“You’ve outdone yourself, sugar cube,” he praised her, pulling her into a tight and drunken hug, but was grateful under his sloppy movements. Shane held the drawing out, puffing his chest out in pride. Jas was so talented; she was talented at anything she put her mind to. Shane knew that without doubt, and hoped at least everyone else in town thought the same.

“Now, who’s this girl over here in the dress? To my right? Is that…?”

“Silly Shane, that’s Mena!”

His brows furrowed for a moment, searching for that name somewhere in his blurred memory. Mena? Who in the hell was men-uh? Me- _na_? He never heard any name like that before, and it only brought him confusion. Jas caught on to his cluelessness, and gave him a look that implied he should have known the answer.

“You know, Jimena. The farmer!” she exclaimed. Shane frowned. The farmer… oh. His eyebrows raised immediately as he suddenly realized he’d--never gotten her name. But, he had a hard time catching it. That was, without a doubt, a name he’d never heard before.

“What--what exactly is it?” Shane asked sheepishly, making a bashful expression to hopefully get a gentle answer from Jas. He wasn’t so lucky.

“Hee-men- _ah,_ Shane!”

“ _Hymen!?_ ” he exclaimed in surprise, still having a hard time registering the name, and was trying to narrow down exactly was Jas was telling him. She made an innocently bewildered face at the new and odd-sounding word, causing Shane’s befuddlement to rise into panic. Oh no--no, please don’t ask what that is. He didn’t have the creativity nor energy to lie if she asked, but Marnie would hang him outside the ranch for all to see if he exposed anything of that kind of light so early in her life. Well, she needed to learn eventually, but it was certainly too technical for a nine-year-old. Shane desperately hoped in the midst of his headache, she’d leave it alone.

“No, like _he_ as in _him_ , Booger!” Jas corrected, sending a much needed cascade of relief down Shane’s spine. The relief was so intense it took off a fraction of pain off of his hangover, or at least, gave that illusion.

“But she said to call her Mena--at least, she said her friends call her that. So I’m her friend--Me and Vincent and Penny!”

Right, the other thing he never really caught. This ‘Mena’ with the weird name had supposedly talked to just about everybody in the village. Everybody except him. Shane scratched the scruff on the right side of his face in emotionless thought over it, simply noting that it was his own unapproachability that must have made it hard for her to open up to him. Not that it mattered or anything; it wasn’t like he really cared if he was the only one she never talked to. Her erratic gift-giving was still persistent with him though, as he’d come to find her on his way to work, holding out a flower or a slice of pizza, and offering it to him for what seemed to be appeasement. It’d happened a number of times, now turning his initial frustration and annoyance with her into content indifference. If she was obsessed with giving gifts to everybody, including him, then fine. Free stuff was free stuff. And if they didn’t have to talk, that was even better. Everybody wins.

“Mena, huh? Yeah, now I remember,” he playfully pointed at her, “but let’s talk more about this pretty girl right here--”

To distract her and himself from the subject of Mena, he pulled Jas into a tight hug and kissed the top of her head, causing the little one to squeal in delight and hug him right back. In the tiniest little moments like these, Shane truly felt what seemed to be honest and genuine love--something so warm and fulfilling--when he got to make Jas smile. As he pulled away, she smiled at him with the unconditional love only family could give, and for a moment, he returned the very same look. He saw so much of her parents in her, and though the thought was normally bitter, it was a small, reassuring feeling. Jas was already so bright and lively, more than he ever was, and he could see his lost best friends behind her sparkling eyes. Shane knew wherever they ended up going, they had to be proud of her. With love warming his entire being, he rested his hand on her shoulder.

“Jas, I love this so much. I think--” Shane leaned down to whisper to her, “I think this is the most perfect birthday gift in the world.”

Her eyes widened in wonder.

“The world!?”

Shane nodded, his typically shady features showing a playful grin.

“Yes--the whole world. I personally have ties to the World Art Committee--the W.A.C.--and they keep telling me that nothing gets better than anything made by the wonderful and crafty hands of Miss Jas… but you can’t tell anyone! They take their documenting very seriously, okay?”

Jas nodded exuberantly, glowing with pride and confidence. Shane couldn’t stop smiling at the sight of her looking so proud of herself; he’d go another five-hundred years with his same perpetual emptiness if it meant this precious little thing could be this happy for her life. Admittedly, he wasn’t exactly sure how Jas held him in her eyes, nor was he entirely sure if she felt like a niece or a daughter… or if there were words for the kind of guardian role he took. All he knew was he needed her more than she needed him, as selfish as it was to admit, and that this was the closest thing he ever had to family. If this was anything like actual fatherhood, the time he and Jas spent together, all the mentoring he did for her, teaching her to walk and to speak and playing games and all the things parents got to do… he really liked it. But the likability of it was all on Jas’ part. She was probably the easiest child in the world to raise, and he had his own generous Aunt’s help, molding her into a far better person than he could ever be.

Which is exactly what he wants for her.

She ran out when she heard Marnie open her bedroom door, prepared to inform her of her amazing gift for Shane that he loved so much. Truthfully, he did. He loved it very much. Shane hardly ever expected anything out of anybody, but to be so pleasantly surprised on his birthday put him in a much more pleasant mood, leaving him to dwell on the drawing for minutes longer. His pensive stare rested on what seemed to be Mena on the paper, and he cocked his head to the side. Come to think of it, Jas drew her pretty close to Shane. Why that was, he didn’t really know, nor didn’t want to pry further and possibly annoy Jas about his cluelessness to her artistic vision. He held the paper close to his eyes once more. She was stoutly drawn, just like him, but the colors were drastically different. Was her hair that long? And, she seemed to use the tan crayon for her skin, so, she was tan? He glanced away, just out the window as if the answer was outside, and pondered over her appearance. He had shrugged her off so many times he honestly… didn’t remember well.

What Shane did remember was what the drawing portrayed about both of them--soft and height-challenged. Though for her case, it was kind of--he dare not use the c-word--decent. Yeah, decent was the word. His came from poor genetics and lack of self-care, but it wasn’t like he deserved anything better, so he brushed the thought off to revisit it later for one of his self-loathing bouts. Since it was his birthday, he knew one of those episodes would be coming shortly and possibly before he even knew it. For now, he’d ride on the emotional high that Jas always brought him, and chose to start his morning with a shower.

As he always did, before even walking by the mirror, he covered it up with the towel to prevent from seeing anything that may ruin his day. Shane started the water, stripped, stood under the water for a couple minutes, and spent a couple minutes in the shower to just reflect. There was something about being under warm, running water that seemed to spark the need to meditate while standing, though Shane never really understood it. He looked down, only briefly, and first felt his fingertips. Calloused from ranch work and caring for chickens, lifting heavy things that Marnie couldn’t, and doing the heavy inventory in the back of Jojamart, he rubbed them together in neutral acknowledgment. These fingers once did athletics, once did academics, once were so close to touching what would have been success.

Would have been.

Here we go, there was the painstakingly familiar feeling of regret and self-loathing. Although an inflictive set of emotions, Shane now found toxic comfort in their familiarity. At this point, he’d reached a point where he felt lost without his emotional weight. He carried it all the time--what would happen if he let it go for too long? If he lost even that, even how much it hurt--then he’d be truly alone with himself. The mere thought of having to withstand his unfiltered consciousness was enough to make him shudder. What would it take to no be self-aware? He’d give anything to be ignorant of himself.

He squeezed his hands both with his own fingers and in the form of making a fist. His career height, or, he potential career felt so far away now. It was as if he vividly dreamt the whole thing long ago, and his brain could only remember certain, inexplicable parts of the dreamlike memory. How long ago _was_ University now? Seventeen years? It was a complete miracle his old jersey still fit him, though no way he could deny it wasn’t loose anymore, and extending his arms up wasn’t flattering with how much it’d shrunk over time. Or--if he was being honest--the couple inches he’d grown. Shane checked his arms, his calves, even poked his glutes to validate his own disappointment in himself. Should he even bother to shave today, then? It _was_ his birthday, but as painful as it was to admit, his highlight was probably the morning with Jas--and it was all going to be downhill from here. Who would even want to see him today? Everyone in the town was far less than excited about his presence with familial exceptions--for everyone else, it was just another day.

Though, he couldn’t help but wonder…

Mena. She’d probably run by soon to drop off his almost-daily gift. For some reason it deeply bothered him that he’d sunken so low as to not remember a new person’s name. There were less than thirty people in town and he couldn’t even brush off his fried brain to remember another _person_ . Another thing to jot down for reasons to beat himself up--tonight’s drinking session was going to be _great_. He could feel it.

With Mena still a lingering thought, he got the second notion that maybe he should try to shave, to perhaps try to get positive attention from someone that he _wasn’t_ related to. The venture seemed risky, and he didn’t want to seem like he was doing it specifically for her. Not that he was, or anything, right? She wouldn’t think that--Oh, Shane, _no way._

_Now you’re going to try to give a good impression after three weeks of being an ass?_

He stumbled out of the shower with his hangover now the least of his concerns, almost ripping the towel off of the mirror, and taking a look at himself.

Hairy.

Truthfully, it’d been a week since he last saw his reflection, the gaps of time getting bigger with each break he took from looking at himself. It was a lucky break his brain didn’t immediately go to _ugly--_ maybe today would be his day. Maybe he could just power through a quick shave, put on his clothes--maybe, if he was adventurous enough? Possibly brush his hair?

He nodded, not breaking eye contact with himself in the mirror, and vowed to actually put effort into his appearance today. He was going to get ready, go to his soul-crushing job, get wasted at the saloon, _then_ maybe, if he was gone enough to free himself totally of his sense of judgment, try to talk to the new girl. No, wait, he shouldn’t wait until he was hammered; that’s what got him to give off a bad impression the first time. Besides, she was probably waiting just outside the door this very second, stalking her prey in hopes of giving innocuous gifts as soon as possible.

“Welp,” he mumbled to himself, “Guess it won’t hurt to try.”

Half an hour later, avoiding his detrimental thoughts the best he could, he rode his birthday high out into the kitchen and reached into the fridge for a bottle of water. His face felt cleaner after shaving; Shane couldn’t help but rub it a couple times to feel its newfound smoothness. He smiled.

“Well, someone’s looking all cleaned up,” he heard Marnie compliment from her counter. He turned left, halfway done with his water. Shane gave a modest shrug.

“Thought I oughta clean up today,” he stated matter-of-factly, but his tone was light instead of exasperated. Marnie walked over to adjust his sweater, making the sentimental facial expression she always did when she was close to him.

“You look just like--”

“My father,” he finished knowingly, offering a small, sad smile. Marnie offered the same sad smile, and looked him over. She let out a huffy laugh.

“I know, that’s such a cliche line, but you… you really have the best of your dad in you, Shane. Especially his smile. But--golly, listen to me getting corny on your birthday. It’s not everyday you turn thirty-fi--”

Shane made a ‘shut your mouth’ motion with his hand, closing his fingers in front of her face.

“I don’t need the reminder, Marnie. If anyone asks, I’m twenty-one again.”

Marnie laughed heartily, patting him on the shoulder.

“Right, right. Gotcha. Or, you can tell people you’re eighty, and just say you age very well.”

He pointed to her, liking the idea.

“Now you’re talkin’. But if we’re gonna be honest, half the town’s gonna age like wine, and I’m here aging like a glass of milk left outside on a hot and humid Summer day.”

“Shane,” Marnie scoffed, “You’re plenty handsome and you age fine. Maybe cut the moping in your room and spend that time being outside?”

He gasped sarcastically, holding the sides of his face.

“Marn--Marnie, I think--I think that cured my depression!” he exclaimed, then holding the sides of her face, she rolled her eyes but smiled at his mockery.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. But don’t think fresh air won’t help just a little. You breathe that stale store air day in and day out, and--Shane. Tell them to get you a new sweater. Please.”

He removed his hands, shoving them right into his pockets.

“You’re preaching to the choir, Marn. Morris has too many rods up his ass to even give the courtesy of considering updated uniforms. ‘Til then, I’m stuck with this thing.”

With a nod to her, he took his hat from the hook it always hung on by the door, and opened it, half-expecting to see the farmer there.

She wasn’t.

His brows furrowed in confusion and dejection, as he wondered why she wasn’t outside like she usually was. Shane sighed. That’s what he got for being such an asshole for so long--it was just karma that made the day she’d stop arriving be on his birthday. Worst case scenario, everything would be status quo and he’d have… a new shave, at least? Yeah, at least he had that. And semi-styled hair. Even if it was just for the day.

Work was business as usual, Shane went straight to the back, gathered all of the inventory papers necessary for restocking, and turned to the whiteboard in the employee room. He lazily huffed out an amused laugh. Someone drew balloons with smiley faces on them, and a stick guy with a party hat. He cocked his head to the side in genuine curiosity, until he jumped at the sudden sound of life behind him.

“Yo--Shane! Happy birthday, man!” a sunny voice greeted. He turned, seeing Sam with his hands on his hips, giving a big smile. Shane nodded to him, happy about the genuine birthday wish. Sam snapped her fingers, pointing at Shane’s face.

“Hey, y’cleaned up! All fresh for your birthday? Got any plans?”

Okay, maybe Sam was a little too exuberant for his personal taste, but Shane appreciated the enthusiasm. He shrugged.

“Mmm, dunno. Saloon, probably. Then I’ll go home and cry on my bed or something. Y’know how it is.”

His honesty made Sam let out a good laugh, taking the ‘crying’ bit as a joke. Shane smiled awkwardly, playing it off as such. Sam stretched out his arms.

“Well, then I’ll catch you at the saloon--Me n’ Seb are gonna play pool. Well, like. You already know. You’ve seen us. Mena said she might watch us play--but honestly, I’ve been trying to talk to her about something.”

Shane caught himself being more curious than necessary, and frowned a bit. What did he mean by _that?_ He felt deeply bothered by the statement, but nodded.

“‘Bout what?” Well-practiced indifference cloaked his defensiveness. Sam folded his arms.

“I heard from Robin she was an event and marketing coordinator for Joja once upon a time--meaning, she’s good at planning and organizing things!”

Shane felt relief--this seemed to be taking a much better turn.

“So--I wanna ask her to be my band manager!”

The birthday boy couldn’t help but scoff.

“Your. Manager.” Shane echoed, “You have a band?”

Sam gave him a look, a familiar, childish one Jas would give him when he was supposed to know something but didn’t.

“Dude, I’ve told you like, six times about me n’ Seb’s band. I’m guitar, Seb is keys, and I’m pretty sure Abby is drums. Not quite _hella_ sure, but like, y’know. Pretty sure. Like 72 percent.”

“That’s a specific number.” Shane was starting to feel exhausted from Sam’s overwhelming band enthusiasm. His own voice was losing energy.

“It is, huh?” Sam laughed, waving his hand dismissively, “Well, anyway, don’t let me talk your head off. I know you’re busy, being the assistant manager and all. But hey--maybe put in a good word for me and ask if I can get a raise, yeah?”

Oh. That’s why he was so nice. But two could play at this game.

“Uh, we’ll see. Just maybe stop being late all the time and maybe I can work something out. If you really want a good word in though, you could do my inventory for me. Y’know, it being my birthday and all. And I’ll do register.”

Sam caught on to the bargain, and disdainfully accepted the clipboard from Shane’s hand. He saluted him off before venturing to the shelves in the back, leaving Shane to sigh in relief. Register was the easiest job in the store, bar none, and he finally could go back to being a dry ass to customers again. It’d been at least a couple months since the last time he was up to his shenanigans on the front lines. He smiled to himself as he made way to the front and set up a register. Shane leaned back, folded his arms, and chose to meditate on his day. It was Thursday, they had no big sales nor the like going on in the store, so it would be slow. Just how Shane liked it.

Not many people came in, as predicted, giving Shane the easy day he wanted for his birthday. Maybe he wouldn’t have to pound so many drinks down to unwind tonight. In the middle of his vacant daydreaming, he heard some footsteps approach his register, and quickly stood up straight to begin scanning items. A face he didn’t quite expect, nor particularly wanted to see.

“Alex?” Shane asked curiously, seeing a box of donuts come down the line. He frowned. This was highly unusual for Alex, first of all, to even be in the store, and secondly, to be buying something that wasn’t low-carb and high-protein. He knew the athlete’s diet very well from his past gridball years, and was also well aware Alex’s physique wasn’t just the result of good genes. Although Shane still felt a tinge of envy towards him for being youthful and in shape--it wasn’t Alex’s fault per se. But it gave Shane a focus for a fraction of his bitterness. Nothing personal, Alex.

“Hey,” Alex greeted lazily, cracking his knuckles without a particular thought. Shane scanned the item and gave him a weird look.

“It’s not like me to ask,” Shane admitted, “but, why, dude? Shouldn’t you be having eggs n’ whatever? You’re in gridball, aren’t you?”

Alex waved his hand, but his expression showed he didn’t appreciate the light nagging from Shane of all people. And Alex was right; health advice from Shane was as valuable as a dollar in a jewelry store.

“It’s for my grandma,” he said, “she’s starting to have trouble with cooking, and, like. Can’t really make herself or my grandpa fried donuts at home. Y’know, old age.”

Shane immediately felt guilt from prying, but his face showed none the wiser.

“Mmm,” he hummed in acknowledgment, beginning to bag everything up.

“Oh, by the way, you can get a bundle with the donuts. If you buy donut holes and glue with a purchase of donuts, you get a gift certificate for ten dollars off your next purchase.”

Alex made a weirded-out face at Shane’s completely dry delivery of his joke. Shane himself was amazed he didn’t seem to be picking up on it.

“What would I do with donuts, donut holes, and glue?” Alex finally questioned, shifting uncomfortably where he stood.

“You tell me,” Shane pressed with a nonchalant expression, handing Alex his bagged box of delectables and his receipt. He did a damn good job of not exposing his own joke.

Right when Alex walked out the front doors, Shane could no longer hide his laughter, leaning back once again and reveling in his own great sense of humor. A shame nobody else appreciated it. Even more of a shame that Alex didn’t come close to understanding, but if he were honest, it made the whole ordeal even funnier. Poor guy really should hit the books sometime.

His day came to an end before he knew it and closed up his register, doing his daily route to the saloon for a night of wallowing in his regrets. A good way to end his birthday on a neutral note, he supposed. And if Sam greatly messed up the inventory orders for the day, Shane would just brush it off and take care of it tomorrow. He didn’t feel like staying and reviewing everything, plus now he had a bargaining chip against Sam should Sam ever play that ‘raise’ card with him again. Shane grinned to himself. Sure, he may recommend Sam to Morris about a raise someday, as long as Sam kept up his favors.

Just as he opened the door, Emily just placed the beer on the counter to where he always ordered one, and he immediately took it and downed his first big gulp. He held it up in acknowledgment of Emily as thanks, who waved at him.

“Hey--hey, happy birthday! Your first two drinks are on us tonight, Shane!” she announced, giving him two thumbs-up. Shane nodded to her in thanks.

“Hey, not too bad. Thanks,” he spoke, leaning against the wall. Emily pointed at him, as if just remembering something.

“Wait--Shane. You’re still coming to my thing, right? Next week?”

He made a perplexed expression. Geez, how many things was he supposed to know about? How did he go so far without having a single clue about anything? Tentatively, Shane nodded, not even bothering to ask.

“Ah, good. I knew you’d come. And everyone else is still going too! I can’t wait to shake things up a bit--gonna be _so_ fun.”

With Emily, that could mean literally anything.

“So… wait… who else is going?” Shane asked vacantly, causing Emily to put her hands on her hips. This was the third time today he’d seen that facial expression.

“Uh, the mayor, for one!”

“Hmm, what a privilege,” he muttered dryly under his breath.

“Aaand, let’s see, there’s Clint, and Robin, and Abigail said she was going… Oh! I also invited Mena! She’s gonna give me a little support! Hey, did you know that clear quartz can enhance meditation? Yeah, weird right? Mena told me all about it--like its healing properties and stuff, and how it cleanses out your higher chakras--and she even gave me one! I never thought I’d want a plain quartz in my room, but now I think that like, she’s totally right, I have been thinking so much more clearly since I got it!”

Shane made vaguely frustrated hand gestures at no one, and turned to face Emily. She sensed his annoyance, and quieted down.

“Y’know, everyone seems to be getting along with her just fine,” he whined, “So, it’s true? This girl actually talks?”

Emily folded her arms.

“Well, yeah, unless she was talking to me telepathically. Do you think she’d be able to--”

“I doubt it.”

“Then, yeah, Shane! Why? You haven’t talked to her yet? But you stare at her all the time? I thought you’d be excited that she was coming to my thing?”

Shane froze. Okay, now he was seriously and completely confused.

“I _what?”_

The bartender blinked at him, unsure of how his confusion came to be, then hummed in understanding as she snapped her fingers.

“Ooh, I see now, you don’t remember. Yeah, she comes in here sometimes to talk to me, or Leah, or whoever’s in, but she comes in a little later. Y’know, after you’ve already had maybe six to seven drinks? Probably why you’re confused right now. Also probably why you totally forgot about my group event!”

Shane scoffed defensively.

“Hey, I totally remembered!”

“Don’t turn this saloon into a house of lies!” she declared melodramatically, making some sort of thespian hand gestures. Shane only responded with another drink from his mug, and thought to himself, now embarrassed. So he really was that drawn to her? Drawn enough to where Jas and Emily could notice? He cursed himself for letting himself go that much as to not remember the girl he’d been meandering at, for _apparently_ , some time. Shane downed his mug, and stood in silence for a minute. If she was going to be coming in, or, rather, if she was going to be heading out later, maybe he should slow down for tonight. If he was really lucky, he could run into her and be on his best behavior for the encounter. A bit of a late redemption, but it was worth trying.

“Hey Em--mind giving me a bottle instead? I think I’m just gonna. Walk around. Maybe being out of the saloon will slow down my pacing.”

Emily winked at him.

“Ah, so you want to remember being a creep-a-zoid in the morning? Gotcha!”

Shane rolled his eyes, pressing denial in the form of body language. She slyly gave him a beer, and held up her finger.

“Okay, but just so you know, I got a tip from Haley that the person you are _not_ looking for said they were gonna fish before coming in. So, in case you _don’t_ want to find them, they’ll be at one of the docks by your place. Since you clearly _didn’t_ want to know.”

The urge to roll his eyes again was an instinct at this point.

His face flushed with embarrassment and intoxication, he walked out with his bottle of beer to… well, he jus needed to stop home. Yeah, he needed to pick up something. Maybe he forgot his wallet, and he needed to go look for it, hence why he was walking this way. No other known motive.

His own body on autopilot, he made it to the docks and stood in silence, feeling his own doubts come over him. Who was he kidding, trying to make up for being a heaping bag of dicks? Forgetting what she looked like? Her name? What the hell was wrong with him--and what would she want to do with him anyway? He was always anxious, always depressed, at least, it always felt that way. He couldn’t keep up with other people’s enthusiasm on his own birthday. Happiness was tiring. Shane took a swig from the bottle. No, feigning happiness was what was so tiring. Actual happiness, if he remembered, never wore him out too bad. Could he make this girl happy? As an acquaintance, that is. Obviously she’d never consider otherwise, considering every aspect of him and the fact that he was a bundle package with a child.

Being a godfather was a blessing more often than not, though. But damn it--damn Sean for thinking Shane was remotely capable of being a parent. Damn his best friend for seeing the good in him--if Jas hadn’t been around, Shane was certain he would have just given up and--

“Shane?”

The unfamiliar voice caught him off guard. It was a rich, clear voice that belonged to a woman--but not one he could recognize. Not quite as soprano as Penny, and was too articulate to be Abigail. In fact, it almost sounded like there was the tiniest dialect he couldn’t pick up on. Who the hell was this?

Shane turned and could almost feel his bladder relieving itself. Thank all that is holy that he didn’t, but he was damn close.

“U-Uh,” he stuttered dumbly, then took a swig of his beer. C’mon liquid courage, _now was not the time to fail_.

Maybe it was the twilight doing her favors, but Jas’ drawing was right. Her skin was a rich, warm tan. Not a suntan though, he’s seen a suntan before and it wasn’t quite this organic in appearance. Mena waved her hand to him in a neutral manner, checking if he was still cognizant. She set down a wooden basket and her fishing rod, folding her arms. Shane cleared his throat, noting again, hair _was_ long. And thick--though he couldn’t make more note of it in the dark.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m here,” he apologized, “had to make sure you weren’t a stranger. Y’know what they say about strangers.”

“Don’t talk to them because they might be a Deep Web market giant? Yeah, I got that lecture plenty of times.”

She let out a good laugh, making Shane feel warm in his chest. It wasn’t the feminine laugh of a demure, delicate lady, it was almost a hearty mother’s laugh after she made a bad joke to her kids. He huffed out a small laugh as well, appreciating her dryness. She was quirky.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all. But you know what else I heard?” she began, opening her wooden basket, and pulled out a plate with tin foil covering it. He felt his heart race. What was that supposed to be? What is she doing? Maybe she’s poisoning him? He took a wary step back, and although was a fan of the whole ‘dying’ thing, didn’t think poisoning was the best way to go.

Ugh. Why was he panicking like this. She’s a normal person.

Mena handed him the plate, and bowed her head.

“Go ahead. They’re still pretty hot--I got a good word from someone.”

Shane raised his brow before opening the gift, and felt his heart jump. Marnie  _had_ to have told her.

“These--!”

“Yeah, they are. I really just… I wanted to apologize if I seemed weird the first couple times we bumped. I dunno, uh, I felt like I was too imposing, and for some reason, I couldn’t think of anything to say.”

Shane nearly felt himself drop the precious plate of pepper poppers. Why was she the one apologizing? Did he make her feel like she did something wrong? His mind went back to the few encounters he did talk to her and… well, yes, he did constantly make her feel like she did something wrong. Self-loathing took an inopportune time to begin drowning his brain, but he persevered to act like a normal person.

“O-oh, hey. Y’know, that was all me. I don’t even know what I was doing, being that much of an asshole. Maybe I was just kind of… trying to not lie to you...? I'unno. Maybe it’s this drink talking…”

Why was he being so honest. He needed to stop.

“...But I’m not that nice. I didn’t want to give you impression that I am. I’m not open or gregarious or whatever, and I wanted to spare you a facade. You’re new. You should know how things work around here. I’m not gonna walk around and pretend the problems I have don’t exist, you know? Fuck me for having a bad attitude about it, but fuck everyone else for trying to look good when everyone knows they’re lying.”

Shane exhaled.

“I think that was too honest.”

Mena shook her head, extending her hand out reassuringly, and offered a smile.

“No, I think that’s good, actually. I mean, you can’t be that awful. You were courteous enough to let me know that--and it’s good to hear I didn’t _actually_ upset you. Or maybe I did? Can’t really tell?” she finished the remark with a laugh. As some kind of honesty catharsis, he joined her in laughing.

“I couldn’t tell you, honestly. But--hey, we haven’t formally met, have we? I think I owe you that. It’d be an even better birthday gift for you to let me redeem myself.”

The farmer gave a curious look, her lips curling up just a little. She extended out her hand.

“Jimena Rodriguez,” she spoke bluntly, “I’m the farmer. I also am _quite_ the expert in delivering obvious facts, as just proven by the fact that you already knew I'm the local farmer. But you can also call me Mena--it's what everyone calls me.”

Okay, so Jas did pronounce it right. It certainly wasn’t _hymen_. Still, he’d never heard a name like that since he lived in Stardew Valley--he extended out his own hand, shaking firmly.

“Shane McMahon, town jackass. It’s a pleasure.”

Holy crap were her hands soft. That had to be impossible with the kind of work she was doing. Did she just wear gloves all the time? He took a little longer than necessary to shake her hand, and she stood there with a stiff smile.

“What--You okay?” she checked, “Something on my face?”

Immediately letting go, embarrassed he stood there for too long, Shane rubbed the back of his neck. Her face--if he could see correctly, was very pleasant. Round and lively, and he may have caught dimples when she smiled. Now he really needed to stop looking, he really, really needed to stop. The more he looked, the more nervous he became.

“Uh, yeah. Just thought I saw a gnat or something,” he lied. Mena raised a brow.

“You can see gnats when it’s this dark out?”

“Mhmm. It’s my x-ray vision.” Shane waggled his brows, causing Jimena to let out a laugh again.

“Can’t imagine how awful it is when you're in a public restroom, then,” she chimed.

Shane chuckled, raising the beer up to her. If only it really was that simple--he commended her for poking fun at something like that, and also thanked her for not making his dry joke awkward. As his beer was held up, he offered it to her.

“Want a cold one? It’s the least I could do to subjecting yourself to talking to me.”

Jimena gave him a look, but kept her smile. She grabbed it from his hand and downed it all in one go, before tossing the bottle into her basket. He stared at her, then the basket, and back at her.

“Fast drinker, huh? A woman after my own heart,” he fake swooned, making her fold her arms.

“Oh yeah? I did it specifically for you,” Jimena replied sarcastically. Laughter rung between them once again before a comfortable and warm silence befell them. A lone lantern remained lit on the end of the dock, and he looked off into the dark beyond, then up to the stars. The night sky made him feel so small--so lonely. It was a heavy reminder of his own insignificance, he felt. Shane walked to the end of the dock, feeling Jimena’s curious eyes on him. His tiny buzz was enough to give him the courage to be truthful… considering how down to earth Jimena has been thus far, he pushed his luck.

“Hey,” he started, putting his hands in his pockets. “You ever get like that. That imminent failure feeling all the time?”

Shane’s eyes stayed on the water, even as bold as to look at his reflection.

“Like you’re just stuck in some kinda pit with no way out? Like--like moving forward, or ahead, isn’t in the cards for you?”

He heard footsteps approach him, and without speaking, Jimena rested a hand on his shoulder. For some reason, the gesture was validation enough. He stood with her in silence for just a little longer.

“Thank you--for the birthday gift. And for hearing out my complaining--Uh. Dunno why, just felt like I could be honest.”

Shane laughed uneasily, then turned to his right to see her standing next to him now, and she shook her head gently at him.

“Hey--when I was at my old job, I felt like that all the time. I know where you’re coming from. And Shane?”

He felt his heart skip a beat when she smiled.

“I like it when you’re honest.”

His face returned the affirmative smile, and looked back to the water. His perpetual heaviness hung over him as it always did, but a hint of warmth lied in the pit of his chest. Shane would curse himself in the morning for dabbling in the luxury of another’s kindness, but for today, it was his birthday, and he was more than happy to selfishly accept the compassion of another person. A girl. A cute girl. A cute girl that was _single_ and wasn’t around to see his more embarrassing days in time’s past like everyone else here.

"So how old are you now?" she quietly asked. Shane smirked, unable to hold back a snicker.

"Twenty-one, duh."

He didn’t have a plan for happiness nor for change, nor nothing close to a huge desire to make such a plan, but this Jimena gave him something he hadn’t had in a long time.

She gave him a chance.

**Author's Note:**

> (thank you for taking a look! a short intro just to set up but next chapter will be a bit longer! thank you.)


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